


Heavy are the Eyes of Heaven

by guiltyreasons



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angelic/Demonic nudity(?), Established Relationship, Fluff, Flying, Happy Aziraphale, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love re-confessions, M/M, Mild Angst, Other, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Snake attributes, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), The mistreatment of a Roof, Wings, brief nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 03:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20090677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltyreasons/pseuds/guiltyreasons
Summary: Aziraphale realizes Heaven isn't keeping tabs on him anymore. His first instinct is to get on the roof and confuse the living Heaven out of Crowley.





	Heavy are the Eyes of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> I'd really like to thank [AugiraCapella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AurigaCapella/profile) for the quick and excellent beta. I wouldn't have had the courage to post this without her input. 
> 
> This is for everyone who just wants Aziraphale to have one relaxed day.

Crowley woke up to an empty bed. Not unusual. Aziraphale could never linger all night and rarely slept himself. How the angel could resist the sweet oblivion of sleep Crowley didn’t know. Then again most demons and angels didn’t sleep. Odd duck he was. Always had been. 

He flopped onto his back and pulled the blankets over his naked form. The fresh cotton felt lovely and warm. It was Aziraphale’s turn to pick the sheets, so he was wrapped in creams and pearl white. He complained something awful every time they switched. ‘Oh the color is so bright it’ll keep me up’ and ‘can’t we use silk? I feel like a peasant’. Yet in secret he loved the sheets, because they reminded him of his angel.

Speaking of…

He closed his eyes and used a small miracle to search for Aziraphale. He found him easily, but the sight made Crowley jump up.

Aziraphale was on top of the roof. Their country cottage was only two stories high, but it was still unnerving. Worse still, he was unbuttoning his jacket for some reason. His mind flickered through a series of Hollywood suicide scenes.

His heart pounding in his chest, Crowley leapt out of bed. With a snap of his fingers his clothing, including shoes, appeared. He wasted no time running out the door, down the hall and outside. He climbed the ladder Aziraphale had left and stood on the sloping roof. 

“Angel! What the Heavens are you doing?” he demanded.

Aziraphale didn’t react like Crowley expected. He didn’t get flustered or fidget. He smiled with all the calmness and serenity one expected of an angel. 

Crowley’s heart twisted and burned in his chest. Was Aziraphale leaving? Realized he was still one of God’s hosts and could leave the shadows that Crowley lived in? He could be happy without a sarcastic asshole who made fun of his clothing. 

“Can’t you feel it?” Aziraphale said as if the answer was obvious. It most definitely was not. 

“Are you high?” he asked, leaning in to checking his pupils. 

“No one is watching. Not Heaven. Not Hell. No one,” he said with the most radiant smile. He closed his eyes and Crowley knew he trying to sense other forces prying in.

“No, they aren’t,” Crowley said, “Haven’t for years now. You know that.”

Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open and he shook his head.

“No, I haven't. Not really. I’ve still been living like Heaven is balancing a checkbook against me. Everything I do ever I pause first and ask is this angelic? Is this right by Heaven?” he explained stripping off his waistcoat. 

“And that lead you to the roof, because…” Crowley asked.

“How long has it been since you’ve flown?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Well, I jetted to America a few years back with Warlock and co. That was ten hours I’ll never get back,” he complained, wincing at the memory. Cramped legs, screaming baby and his ears had taken ages to pop. He was pretty sure airplanes had been one of his lot’s inventions. 

Aziraphale laughed and tossed his nicely pressed button down shirt onto the roof. His undershirt followed in a quick movement. The angel turned to him and extended his massive wings. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he said with a cheeky grin.

Crowley drank in the sights of all that skin, pale in the morning light. The angel’s chest was so flushed with golden luster that Crowley couldn’t be sure if the glow came from the sun or from within Aziraphale himself. His wings were still pure white and strong. Crowley reached out and touched a few feathers, remembering how his own had once looked like that. Too long ago for him to accurately recall, or maybe he just didn’t want to. 

“You know you don’t actually have to take your shirt off to do that,” he teased.

“I want to. I want to fly like we did in Heaven before shame,” Aziraphale said undoing his belt, “Will you join me?”

How could he say no? Saying no to Aziraphale seemed to go against his very nature. And why should he? Aziraphale was finally letting loose, enjoying himself. It was masterful to see and he felt drawn to his joy. The only time Aziraphale looked like this was when he was drunk, post orgasm or sleeping. Never in his waking, sober life did he look so peaceful and content. Heavy had been the eyes of Heaven. 

Crowley slipped his stylishly loose tie off and shed his jacket. He undressed the human way, peeling off layer by layer like Aziraphale had for him. Once done he stood before him and spread his black wings behind them, careful not to knock into Aziraphale. 

“Oh, um, dear I - - ,” Aziraphale stammered and Crowley was glad to see a bit of that remained. It wouldn’t do if he could never fluster his angel again. 

“What,” he asked hands on his hips.

“Now, I’m not saying I don’t love it. I clearly do. Whatever shape you take I’m happy to indulge in, but right now I was thinking more our naturist state,” he said eyes coyly pointing down to Crowley’s cock. Crowley hadn’t even thought to do without it anymore, it tended to be useful with Aziraphale around. 

It was then Crowley realized Aziraphale hadn’t made an Effort. He was smooth between his legs, hairless on his entire body sans head and even his nipples were gone. He was still beautiful, even sexy, with his defined shoulders and stocky build. Yet like this it was hard to forget he was anything but an angel, which made Crowley hesitate. 

“If I go fully natural it won’t only be my cock that changes,” he warned. 

“Oh?” Aziraphale said with a curious tilt to his head, “I didn’t know. Oh, Crowley, you must show me. You know how beautiful I think you are.”

Aziraphale took a step closer and took the glasses from Crowley’s face. He hadn’t even realized he’d miracled them on. They were such a familiar part of his face and yet a point of contention between them. Aziraphale insisted he liked Crowley’s piss yellow eyes. Crowley still had a hard time believing it.

Crowley stepped back and closed his eyes. This wasn’t going to be easy. But just maybe it’d be worth it. He let down all the glamors he’d been keeping up for millennia. It wasn’t as if he’d turn into a half snake creature, but his skin did turn translucent. Scales could be made out under that thin layer, red and black in turn. His tongue turned forked and his teeth sharp. His hair reminded the same, only grew long and down his back. The nails on his fingers grew sharp and pointed, made for ripping and shredding. All sexual aspects of his form were erased and he was left smooth, sexless which felt vulnerable in a way he wasn’t expecting. 

He couldn’t look over at his angel. He couldn’t open his eyes. He felt a hand on his chin. He bit his down on his lip to stall the escape of the sob gathering in his throat. His sharp teeth tore through the thin flesh and a drop of blood ran down his lip.

“My dearest,” Aziraphale said brushing his thumb over Crowley’s lip and miracling away the gash, “You are radiant.” 

He opened his eyes and met sky blue ones. There was not a trace of doubt or disgust. Love literally radiated off of him and Crowley bent to it. He trusted it. God help him he trusted it. 

“Thank you,” he said with more of a hiss on each word than was normal. 

“You should have shown me sooner. No more secrets. Ever. We lived too long with secrets,” Aziraphale said in earnest. 

Crowley nodded, not trusting his voice. 

Aziraphale took a step back and then turned. He sprinted off the edge of the roof and his wings took air. He flapped and gained height. Crowley realized he’d never seen his lover fly and had no idea how much Aziraphale would love it. His face broke out in a smile that reflected in his eyes when he looked down at Crowley 

_I am not worthy_ he thought watching the embodiment of heaven fly, glowing and pure above him. Aziraphale motioned for him to join. He couldn’t let him down. Aziraphale got what he wanted and if he wanted Crowley, dammit he was happy to be bound to him. 

Crowley launched himself off the side of the roof. He cried out and struggled to catch the air under his wings. He had no intention of telling Aziraphale he hadn’t flown since Heaven. The angel would make a huge deal out of it. It took a few flaps and awkward shifts, but he found an updraft and took it. Turns out there are some skills you can’t lose. Once stable, he searched for Aziraphale. The angel was much higher and Crowley struggled to catch up. 

“I missed this,” Aziraphale said looking over at Crowley with such love it made Crowley’s skin burning like holding his hand too close to a candle. 

“I know,” he said, resisting the urge to complain. His wings were tired, it was cold and the clouds created a gentle mist that clung to his skin. He hated that Aziraphale could see his most demonic form even if the angel said he loved it. 

As if sensing his negative emotions Aziraphale flew towards him. He got close enough to put his hands on Crowley’s face. Crowley stared into the blinding light, unblinking. 

“I love you so much,” he said. Though Aziraphale had said the words before, Crowley felt like he was hearing them properly for the first time. They weren’t whispered in secret or muttered at the end of a phone call. They weren’t secret. He was practically screaming. “For so long. You’re my whole world, Crowley. You’re my everything. I want to watch the world age with you. I want to make love to you every day and watch you sleep every night. I want to braid your hair.”

The last line made Crowley chuckle, but he didn’t doubt Aziraphale meant it. He’d just never asked before. 

“I love you,” he replied simply. No grand gestures or impassioned pleas. He didn’t need them. He just needed to tell him. The rest had been said. The rest was known.

Aziraphale kissed him and the world was alive with love. Crowley drowned in it. He kissed back, but it wasn’t the movement of lips that mattered. No, it was the intimacy. He wasn’t even sure how he was flying anymore. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that Aziraphale had finally realized they were free. 

Two miles to the north, at their nearest neighbor’s home, an old Welsh man saw a particularly odd sight. It was as if a spotlight and a shadow were fighting in the sky. The darkness would creep over the light and then it would grow brighter. The darkness crept into the clouds and then the light would take them back.

He scratched his chin and looked down at his pug. His pug tilted his head to the side as if in question. The old man decided that they both were confused at the sight in the sky. The pug was actually hungry and could not see the sky from his vantage point. 

He watched, an accidental voyeuristic experience, until the light and darkness exploded out and consumed the surrounding clouds like a strobe light. 

He went inside and rang his daughter. He told her what he had seen. It inspired her to draw a painting that would rival Van Gough’s ‘Starry Night’ in both beauty and popularity. 

Three decades later it would hang in the living room of an angel and a demon who had no idea why they were drawn to it, but it was a rare piece of work they both agreed on.


End file.
